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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28313523">Alone, Once More</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/silurica/pseuds/silurica'>silurica</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Look to Love, Always [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fallen London | Echo Bazaar, Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Originally Posted on Tumblr</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2019-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2019-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 12:09:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>434</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28313523</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/silurica/pseuds/silurica</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A nightmare found himself stranded in an unfamiliar woods across the mirrors, ponders what to do about his predicament.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Look to Love, Always [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2068755</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Alone, Once More</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Crossover with one of my original works, Fuyuki of Sonatina Nocturna found himself in Parabola. Also a set up for future uses of the character. Crossover? I guess technically it's a crossover.</p><p>Probably only makes sense with familiarity with the character. I guess that's the thing about crossovers, though.</p><p>Yeah, crossover. I thought about this so much the word lost some of its meaning to me.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is snowing in the world beyond the mirror.</p><p>The Sable-Clad Pianist sighs and wipes the surface of the hand mirror. Oh, how he wishes to reach into the mirror, to touch the white and soothing ground. How he wishes to return to a place where people are, to hear and to gain nourishment from them. How he wishes to understand <em>just where on earth</em> has he ended up in. He thought he was returning to his town for the night, but this clear lake and this gray sky….</p><p>It is embarrassing to admit he is lost, but he <em>is </em>utterly lost and alone. The woods surrounding the lake is a heart-wrenching puzzle that he dares not enter too often, lest the shadow of his beloved would haunt and tear his mind. Did he end up in another nightmare’s domain? Is that why the woods can project his weakness? But why entrap a being of dreams like him? There are too many questions filling his mind now. At least the mirror he found in the woods showed him that he has not accidentally stumbled into the end of the world.</p><p>To stave off loneliness, he has recreated his piano and played songs—it is convenient how he ended up near a lake—but his attempt at luring a soul has only brought him birds and insects. He is lonely. And tired. Perhaps he should sleep to reserve his energy? But doing nothing would not resolve his situation, and he would wake up still lonely and tired. Nobody to talk to, nobody to help him….</p><p>His thoughts stop for a moment as he hit a realization. This is just like that time. Days he no longer able to remember clearly, but its misery lingering at the back of his mind. He shivers and bites his lip; suddenly sleep has become a more appealing plan. Sleep and never wake up again. He doubts that fate would smile upon him for the second time and allow a chance meeting with—</p><p>He sits upright. “This is no good,” he says to himself. “My dear would be disappointed if I stop and cry myself into nothingness.” He looks down at his hands; doubt has yet to leave his mind. No, he cannot stay like this. He cannot bear to disappoint his beloved, even after death. Placing down the mirror, he turns his sight toward the lake. Perhaps for now, he will try to make a place to live in, just like the old days. Perhaps then somebody may visit and tell him about the snowy place beyond the mirror.</p>
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